


The day before the rest of your life

by marguerite_26



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-02-18
Updated: 2011-02-18
Packaged: 2017-10-30 21:48:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/336520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marguerite_26/pseuds/marguerite_26
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Before Arthur gets married, Gwaine thinks there’s something he should face about himself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The day before the rest of your life

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Lee for the beta

They would never have managed to get him through the door if he hadn’t been blindfolded. Fucking _Gwaine_ and his meddling. He was getting married to Sophia in – he looked at his watch – sixteen hours. And now instead of getting pissed with his mates on someone’s couch with a footie match in the background (a proper bachelor party), he was hiding in the loo of a strip club, the kind without a single female in the building.

Gwaine had shaken his head but hadn’t said a word when Arthur had announced the engagement. He’d agree to be the best man on the condition that he be allowed to throw the bachelor party, which, in retrospect, Arthur should never have agreed to.

Luckily, it was just Gwaine and Lancelot. He trusted them both enough that what they were telling him by dragging him here wasn’t utterly mortifying. He’d avoided their hints on the question of his sexuality for years. It was none of their business and they _generally_ didn’t push. But he supposed this was one last desperate attempt on their part to make a point. He’d glowered at them the minute the blindfold had come off, and he’d taken off to the loo. They knew him well enough not to follow.

There was a couple in the stall behind him, he realised a bit belatedly. He considered leaving to give them some privacy but maybe that defeated the point of loo sex. He wasn’t sure. He always did his best to avoid ever thinking about things that men got up to in the toilets of places like this. He spent a good part his life _not thinking_ hard enough to give himself aching migraines.

The men in the stall were finishing. Arthur could tell by the loss of rhythm in the squeak of the door hinge and the desperate hitch to their breathing. His cock was heavy in his trousers and he knew all he had to do was palm his cock for a bit and dream up a few pictures to match those sounds and he’d need to find some excuse to give the dry cleaners. Fucking Gwaine probably even knew that might happen as soon as he took off to the bathroom. He bit his cheek and let the sting of it distract him from the thickening of his cock.

The door swung open and he was grateful he hadn’t given in to temptation. In walked a tall bloke, a bit younger than Arthur. He was skinny and pale with a mess of black hair and a t-shirt that was splattered with what looked like plaster. He looked like the kind of bloke Arthur might hire to fix the crack in the ceiling of his foyer and spend the afternoon finding excuses to walk by every few minutes.

The bloke stood at the urinal and Arthur tried not to listen as he relieved himself. It was so fucking wrong to be fighting a hard-on with a stranger pissing two feet from him. He was going to kill Gwaine for reducing him to this.

A strangled cry came from the stall. From the corner of his eye, Arthur watched the man at the urinals startle while Arthur pretended to find his fingernails fascinating. The thrum of the music from the club vibrated through the wall at Arthur’s back. He wondered how long he should stay, another song set at least – long enough to let Gwaine get a few rounds down. Maybe he’d be more agreeable to getting the fuck out of there.

The stall door banged open while the bloke with the plaster on his shirt was at the sink. He had to dive out of the way as the couple stumbled over to wash up, drunk or high and barely taking the time from sucking each other’s tongues to turn the water off. Arthur thought the skinny bloke would follow them out the door but instead he turned and looked Arthur in the eye for the first time. Arthur fidgeted under the intensity he saw there.

“Are you waiting?” The bloke motioned to the empty stall. There was a streak of paint or something cutting across the shadow of his cheekbones. For some reason it made Arthur acutely aware of the press of his dick against his zipper.

“No,” Arthur stammered. “I’m ...” He waved his hands in the hopes that _I’m not actually gay_ came across.

“Hiding in here?”

Arthur laughed. That was a far more fitting answer.

“Me, too,” the bloke said, leaning up against the wall beside Arthur as if he’d been invited. “I have this _thing_ tomorrow and I’m nervous as fuck. My mate thought _this_ place was the best way to distract me.”

“And it’s not?” Arthur asked, genuinely curious. He had no idea how the gay mind worked.

The bloke shrugged, all gangly arms and bony shoulders. “Not my scene.”

“Prefer the subtle art of seduction?”

He giggled. It was a silly, infectious sound and Arthur felt a bit of tension ease from his shoulders.

“And when that’s not available – which is always – the porn on my laptop is less...” He shook his head and his ears went suddenly bright. “I have no idea, I’m just picky, I guess.”

He shifted his feet until his worn trainers bumped Arthur’s Italian leather boots.

“Why are _you_ in here, then?”

“Yeah, same.” Which was basically true. He hadn't slept properly in weeks. “Something tomorrow, friends dragged me here.”

“Why do people think naked men is the solution to any gay man’s problem?”

“I’m getting married tomorrow,” Arthur said.

The bloke’s eyes went wide and Arthur’s cheeks heated.

“My best man.” Arthur’s palms were clammy, and he wiped them on his trousers. “He thinks I’m not being honest with myself.”

“Ah.”

“Yeah. But Sophia’s...” He bit his tongue to stop himself from saying ‘a good match’ in a perfect imitation of his father. “She’s great.”

The bloke just coughed. “So ... you’re not gay?”

Arthur couldn’t answer, inexplicably more honest with this stranger than he’d been with anyone in his life. “Doesn’t matter.” His mind flashed to months of wedding preparations, picking china patterns and canapés and the logistics of a hundred white doves.

The bloke’s brow knitted and he moved to stand in front of Arthur. “Look, don’t bust my nose, all right? I’ve got a Gallery opening tomorrow.”

Arthur was still trying to decipher the words when the stranger closed the distance between them, not touching, just hovering in his personal space. His warm breath tickled Arthur’s cheek and Arthur’s waning erection took a renewed interest.

“I’m Merlin.” The words were barely more than a puff of warm air at Arthur’s lips. The heat of it travelled down Arthur’s back, whipcord fast and twisted around his cock.

“Hi.” He swallowed hard, not daring to move an inch. Backwards seemed impossibly wrong and forward, forward was leaping off the edge of a cliff that he’d been avoiding for years. “Arthur.”

Merlin shifted forward and Arthur felt himself tumbling, the panicked swirl of vertigo, as their lips brushed and his mind prickled with pleasure. Merlin was nothing like Sophia – she tasted of cherry lip gloss and sickly sweet like the honey drops she loved to suck on. Merlin’s lips were warm and dry and held the bitter tang of whiskey. Arthur’s tongue swept out to grab more of it. Merlin’s chest rumbled in approval and his lips parted.

Kissing had always been obligatory, slightly boring but ultimately unavoidable. But when Merlin opened for him and their tongues slid, wet and warm, against each other and the stubble of Merlin’s chin burned Arthur’s sensitive skin like a counterpoint, there was nothing tiresome about it. He clutched Merlin’s t-shirt beneath his fists, no longer trusting his knees to keep him standing.

His head was swimming by the time Merlin pulled back. He groaned in disappointment. They were still close enough that he could _feel_ Merlin’s corresponding smile.

“Are you okay?”

Arthur frowned. “Shut up, Merlin.” He spun them so Merlin’s back was pressed against the wall, Arthur’s hands spread wide on his chest keeping him in place. Arthur’s eyes were mesmerised by Merlin’s lips, swollen and pink and open in a delicious ‘o’ as he panted, waiting for Arthur’s next move.

Part of him was going through a major life crisis. But more of his blood was flowing into his pants than into his brain. That made kissing Merlin again the most important thing in the world. Their lips met, and after a few gentle pecks, they gave into another slow slide of tongues. It was beyond brilliant. Arthur knew he was a cheating bastard but there was nothing for it at the moment. It seemed he’d never been honest with Sophia or himself, and that could wait until he figured this out before the guilt settled in. Right now all he wanted was to be as close as he could to this strange bloke, with his stubble and his callused hands.

He abandoned clinging to the t-shirt and moved to Merlin’s hair, making a mess of the short locks that were so very not Sophia’s blanket of soft curls. The thought set his hips tilting forward and they both gasped into the kiss as Arthur’s cock brushed against the hard bulge in Merlin’s jeans. He was in the men’s, snogging and dry humping a random stranger; it hit Arthur in a flare of heat at his lower back what was actually happening here, what was about to happen if he didn’t stop it.

He rocked his hips again tentatively and squeezed his eyes shut at the delicious friction.

Merlin moaned. “Quick study,” he whispered as he began to attack Arthur’s neck with his teeth and tongue. He was so rough, leaving small bites that sent fissions of pleasure spiralling through Arthur’s body until he felt them in his fingertips and the curl of his toes.

 

They were rutting together now in a fast, sloppy rhythm. Arthur didn’t know how to stop, how to slow down or if he even wanted to but he was going to cream his pants if Merlin kept flicking his tongue _right there_.

“I want—“ _I want to come. I want to make you come. I want know what your face looks like as you lose control and what your cock looks like spurting onto my hand._ He reached for Merlin’s buckle and stopped, waiting for approval.

“Yeah.” Merlin kissed him again. “Yeah, okay.” He pushed Arthur’s hands out of the way and managed to get both their zips lowered and with a little shuffling, his hand wrapped around both their cocks.

Arthur’s brain couldn’t catch up with all that his body was telling him. The weight of another cock next to his, silky-soft and hot and hard as steel left him breathless. It was all too much and maybe it was, but fuck if he was going to tell Merlin to stop.

Merlin’s shoulders were broader than the loose t-shirt let on and Arthur’s fingers curled into the solid muscle as Merlin’s hand began to move, up and down their cocks. It was rough, _Christ_ , dry and tight, and his eyes stung at the almost-pain but it was too damn perfect. “Not going to last.”

“Ah, fuck.” Merlin’s head fell to Arthur’s shoulder like Arthur’s words alone might be enough to get him off. They were both staring, heads bent together as Merlin’s long fingers worked them. Every few strokes he’d swipe his thumb over the leaking tips and let the pre-come ease the path of his hand until he could jerk his fist in a fast angry pace that left them both gasping.

“Come on, come on,” slipped from Arthur’s mouth without him even realising it.

Merlin came first. It was unexpected; Arthur was so close. He just froze, staring at the come coating Merlin’s hand and Arthur’s cock. His pulse thundered in his ears and he had to shut his eyes because it was all too much. But that didn’t work because all he could do was _feel_. Merlin’s cock was still pressed to his and it was pulsing, spasming against his in the tight circle of Merlin’s hand. And then Merlin moved again and the long drag of his hand was now slick and easy. He had another man’s come all over his dick.

It was Merlin’s turn to whisper, “Come on, Arthur.” His voice was thick, filthy and so fucking _male_.

Arthur cried out, fucking into Merlin’s fist with all he had, and Merlin would have some brutal bruises on his shoulders from Arthur’s fingers. He didn’t care because it was all too much and he was tired of being gentle and restrained and perfect. He lost himself in the moment, knowing he was too loud and spewing a litany of curses that would have made _Gwaine_ blush. His orgasm ripped from him, starting deep inside and forcing its way out like a freight train. He caught Merlin’s mouth in a kiss, giving everything into it as he spent himself into Merlin’s waiting fist.

He finally came down from the high and he pulled away, realising he’d been clinging to Merlin for dear life. He caught his breath a minute later and looked up to see Merlin staring at him, a little shocked but with a private, pleased smile that Arthur wouldn’t mind seeing again. His lip was bleeding, which Arthur guessed was that last kiss. He wiped his thumb over it. “Sorry.”

Merlin’s eyes crinkled in amusement and he sucked Arthur’s thumb into his mouth.

A crash from beyond the door brought them both back to reality. Arthur scrambled to tuck himself back in, wincing at the tacky feel of Merlin’s dried come, and Merlin grabbed a few paper towels before moving to the sink to wash his hands.

When Arthur looked over, he caught Merlin watching him in the mirror.

“Right, so...” Merlin turned and rubbed the back of his neck. His pale cheeks were a gorgeous pink and Arthur blinked at the overwhelming _want_ that rushed over him.

Merlin fished out something from his pocket and handed it to Arthur. The card read _Merlin Emrys: The magic of artistry._ It was glossy and professional; the watermark behind the writing was a sculpture of a man lying face down with his head resting on his forearms. It drew Arthur in, much like the artist himself. In the bottom corner was tomorrow’s date and _Gallery Opening_ in thick bold font. Arthur could only nod, his words escaping him.

“Stop by if you aren’t doing that other thing, yeah?” Merlin smiled, a little too wide and sincere for the filth of a strip club toilet. And Arthur couldn’t help the laugh that burst from his chest. It was a bit too loud and possibly hysterical. But Merlin just winked and slipped out the door.

When the door closed and Arthur was alone, he pocketed the card and splashed water on his face. He’d find his friends and drag them out of this place. Then maybe he’d sit and listen to what they’d been trying to tell him for years.


End file.
